Star Wars 1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: George's, not mine.

**A/N**: The credit for the subtitle goes to James Luceno, author of _Millennium Falcon_. I'm just spoofing until such time as Leia decides to publish her actual memoirs.

**Passing for a Politician; or, the Crook, the Wook and Me: A Memoir in Three Parts**

_**Preface to the Second Edition**_

For forty years now, my husband has cautioned me not to tell him the odds. If you are reading this, then the odds are that you have a figurine of my husband perched atop your desk, right next to the miniature replica of that hunk of junk he calls a ship. He's probably wearing his custom modified DL-44 blaster holstered at his hip. I'll give you any odds he doesn't look a day over thirty.

One of the fringe benefits of gallivanting about the galaxy with such a man is that you eventually learn to lay the odds so you can't lose. My husband calls it the vaunted Solo luck. I call it spending too much time with Lando. Either way, after four decades of marriage, three intrepid kids and too many people trying to kill us, he's finally made a convert of me. (The kids, of course, sided with him from the day they got their first model X-wings.)

I am publishing my journals in an effort to sketch the reluctant process by which I adopted my husband's questionable maxims. Now you, too, can rescue princesses, win firefights, and blow up superweapons with impunity. While my tone may strike some as irreverent, these are likely the same people who insist on calling my husband "General" despite the fact that he has tendered his resignation not once but three times. If you think public figures should keep a lid on their private lives, then you can stop right here. But if you want to know how I went from imperious senator to enthusiastic scoundrel, then read on.

Leia Organa Solo  
Former Princess of Alderaan  
Former Member of the Alliance to Restore the Republic  
Former Chief of State of the New Republic  
Full-Time Scoundrel


	2. Chapter 2

_**Part I: Princess**_

It was Luke's idea.

While normally that would be a ringing endorsement, my brother is not noted for his history of successful long-term relationships. (Though the number of women who send him holos, accompanied by requests for autographs, dates, and lap dances, seems to increase exponentially day by day.) If I have a moral dilemma, I go to Luke. On the other hand if my love life is in shambles, then I would do better to break out the Whyren's Reserve and watch old holodrama reruns with Chewie, because he's the only man in my life likely to have any answers.

The problem is that – according to Threepio's best calculations – where you find Chewie, you run an eighty-four percent chance of finding Han, too.

Fortunately for me, today was in the other sixteen percent.

He swept me off my feet with a thunderous roar and swung me around and around, my waist-length braid flying through the air, before setting me back down. I buried my face in the warm ginger fur of his stomach.

He growled an interrogative.

"No, I was hoping he'd be out. I need to talk to you."

A rumble of concern.

"I'm fine, really. I just got back from a meeting of the Alderaanian Council." I paused. "The entire session was basically an excuse to start planning my wedding to Prince Isolder. Who hasn't even asked me to marry him." _Yet._

Chewbacca said something for which my rudimentary command of Shyriiwook was inadequate, but I caught the drift of it easily enough. I tried to suppress my mirth.

"While that might be gratifying to watch, I don't think it would do us any good in the long run. They'd just arrest you, and probably me too, and then Han would bail us both out and I'd never live it down."

The Wookie equivalent of a snort.

"I came to ask you a favor, Chewie. Mon Mothma has suspended my other diplomatic duties so I can spend more time with the Hapan delegation. And I don't mind the Prince" – a warning growl from Chewbacca – "it's just, he's always got those amazon guards. He's even assigned one to me ever since the last assassination attempt. I thought if I could demonstrate that I'm well protected right where I am –"

The vigorous growl of assent was immediate and unhesistant.

"You will? That's wonderful! Only for a couple of days, you understand, until things die down. I know it must be hard on you, and if that pigheaded oaf gives you any trouble, you just tell him it's not fair to draw our friends up into battle lines."

"Who's a pigheaded oaf?" a voice demanded from the doorway.

Framed in the soft light of the corridor's glowrods, Han's familiar features looked more tired than I had ever seen them. He was dressed in informal military fatigues and carried a duffel that made it clear he was returning from maneuvers with the fleet.

"Hello, Han," I said. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"What, in my own apartment?"

Chewbacca pointed out that Han was not necessarily the main attraction.

"Fine. Have it your way. She came for the pleasure of the big furball's company. You can go shed all over _her_ carpet anytime, buddy."

There was a brief silence. "Actually, that's what I asked him to do."

"You _what_?" Han exploded, dropping the duffel with a thud.

"I need someone imposing –"

"Isn't that what those belly dancers disguised as bodyguards are for? Looks like Isolder's got a whole harem tucked away on that flagship."

"Yes, but I need someone on _my_ side," I said impatiently.

"I'm on your side," he said, and for a moment the longing in his eyes almost caused me to relent. Almost.

"Chewie will be accompanying me tomorrow," I said briskly, preparing to make my exit. As good as it was to see Chewie, I couldn't stand another minute of that infernal man.

"Hey, wait just a minute. Where, exactly, is he accompanying you _to_?"

"Since it's Prince Isolder's first visit to Coruscant, I thought it was important for him to see firsthand the long, proud history of the Republic. To see that we're a people, not just a hodgepodge of species and cultures thrown together ad hoc." Luke had warned me not to rub it in his face, but what did Luke know? Luke wouldn't recognize a romantic overture if it conked him over the head with the butt of a blaster.

"You're – you're going to the _Galactic Museum_?" Han sputtered.

"That's right. And as I recall, you were never fond of the place. 'Too many statues of dead guys and nothing to shoot,' was your verdict."

"I—" Han swallowed visibly. "That's not true. I love museums. Find them fascinating, I do." He narrowed his eyes. "It's a big place. What happens if someone else tries to kill you?"

Chewbacca roared in protest. He would never allow anything to happen to me.

"I'd still feel safer if I could keep an eye on you myself."

"No. Absolutely not." _Take Chewie along if you want_, Luke had suggested, _but for the love of the Force don't let Han find out._

"That's not fair. You know I'm a good man to have in a tight spot. I'm less conspicuous than a Wookie, and unlike the Hapans I know my way around Coruscant. I promise to behave, Leia."

"Like you behaved at dinner last night?"

"He called me out! I'm not letting him have you without a fight."

"Han Solo, I am not a … a _trophy wife_!"

"I'm sorry about last night. Can I come tomorrow or not?"

_Put Han and Isolder in the same room, and somebody is going to get hurt. It might not even be Han or Isolder_, Luke had predicted glumly. But what did Luke know? If I was counting on him, I would be old and gray before he made me an aunt.

"You'll be miserable," I told Han. "You'll hate every minute of it."

"That's as it may be, Your Highness."

_So only invite him along as a last resort_, Luke had said.

Well, to hell with Luke, and to hell with Han and Isolder. Chewbacca and I would have a ball roaming the exhibits alone.

Then I thought, _He deserves it, the pigheaded oaf_, and I said, "Be outside my quarters at oh-eight-hundred hours."

Han's whoop was drowned by Chewie's howl of alarm; apparently he shared Luke's opinion of the volatile situation. _I wish them joy of each other, Han and Isolder_, I thought as I swept out of the apartment.

And that is why it was Luke's fault that we all wound up at the museum.


End file.

Star Wars, Humor